likesboys | magic markers.

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magic markers.

So here's what you missed on Glee:

Kurt's still really into Blaine, while Blaine doesn't really know what he wants and even got his mack on with Rachel, although locking lips with her seems to have put him back on the right team. Blaine's discovered that Kurt's idea of getting his sexy on looks more like someone holding back a lot of gas, and Burt's collected a slew of pamphlets to try and educate his son, but Kurt's still showing resistance. Both the New Directions and the Warblers are preparing for Regionals, but the Warblers are looking more like Blaine and the Pips by the day, and we don't think Kurt's too happy about that.

And that's what you missed on... Glee!

Although Kurt would have certainly preferred to spend the day working on a Judy Garland number adapted for the Warblers, he could understand the club's enthusiasm and Blaine's eagerness to use Top 40 hits to appeal to a mass audience. Maroon 5 was, all things considered, a band that saw remarkable success given their lackluster quality in live performances, and Kurt could only imagine that the Warblers' charm and tailored uniforms would add to the effect. But as he sat on the bench, feeling the ground move under his feet and hearing the fists of his classmates pounding on the tables, his mind couldn't keep from repeating a single thought, time and time again: this song was just more of the same.

Among all of the Warblers, there was one young man who stood out from the rest, with ineffable charm and the ability to capture an audience with every single note. But for all that Kurt appreciated finally being able to discuss the finer details in life with someone over a Grande non-fat Mocha, he couldn't help thinking back to the New Directions every single time the Warblers met for practice, and how much stronger their little band of misfits was for the way they showcased each individual member's strengths. Brittany and Mike were fantastic dancers, Mercedes could belt them out as well as Aretha herself, Tina's voice had an unmatched clarity, Quinn and Sam's voices were sweet enough to give anyone a toothache, and Kurt would be lying if he said that he'd never envied Rachel's ability to carry a Broadway tune. In the Warblers, however, Blaine was given so many solos that Kurt had started to feel that his voice was becoming white noise in the background. Yes, he was jealous. Yes, he was a little resentful of the fact that every suggestion of his was shot down without a second thought. But what was there to do?

He wasn't on his home turf.

It took a few seconds before Kurt quickly began to realize that the pounding had stopped. The white noise was gone. And when Kurt looked up, all of the intricate wooden molding had disappeared, paintings and chandeliers nowhere to be seen. A quick glance down to his hand revealed that Kurt was still sitting on the same bench as before, his messenger bag threatening to slip over the edge. (Pavarotti's cage, however, was notably missing.) He froze.

"Oh no," he breathed. "No, no. I don't know if Eli finally managed to clock me in the head with his overeager dancing, or if this is just because I spent too many hours with the Magic Markers for my diorama on Louis the Second, but— but it needs to stop now." He glanced around imploringly, nails digging into the fine leather upholstery as he noticed a jukebox playing in the background. Maroon 5.

"Or maybe it's a dream," Kurt reassured himself, sighing softly through his teeth. "Although really, world? A crappy jukebox and a worn sofa? The least you could have done was dropped me off at Seattle Grace."

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He was seriously never, ever getting used to that. There was this empty spot in the rec room, and then that empty spot was filled by a piece of furniture that looked like it belonged in a museum, and a kid perched on the seat, wearing one of those stuffy, private school uniforms.

And not just any kid, either.

"Holy crap, dude," Puck mumbled around the last mouthful of cookie he'd swiped from the kitchen, his eyes bulging and crumbs tumbling out onto his t-shirt.

The voice was painfully familiar, and for a second, Kurt allowed himself to believe that this was some miraculous feat of the McKinley High glee club, determined to kidnap him back to their side for Regionals— and oh, part of him was tempted to leap right back into the thick of it, but the thin skein of fear that lingered beneath was enough to shake him back to his scenes. He quickly glanced over with a hesitant smile on his face, a quip on the tip of his tongue, but upon only finding Puck in front of him, the expression... petered a bit.

Alright, so admittedly, the two of them had gotten along better in the weeks preceding Kurt's transferral than ever before, and Kurt would be the first to admit that Puck was neither as badass nor as malicious as he wanted people to believe, but Kurt certainly wasn't under any impression that Puck would singlehandedly try to bring him back to McKinley. Or that he'd be capable of a plan as elaborate as this.

So he sighed.

"Yes, yes, eloquent as ever," Kurt shook his head, words slipping out under his breath and crossing his arms over his chest, deciding to allow the dream to play out in full. "You know I'm missing McKinley when I start having dreams about Noah Puckerman."

"If you're waiting for this to turn into some kind of freaky sex dream, you're about to be seriously disappointed. I mean, not that I can blame you or anything. I am frickin' irresistible," Puck said, brushing the crumbs on his hands off onto his jeans.

Collapsing into a nearby chair, he said, "You're awake. And you're too much of a tight ass to have actually taken anything that would make you hallucinate like this."

"Believe me, were I the type to dream of... making love," Kurt began, both brows raising as he broke eye contact at the very thought (or lack thereof) of the bedroom, he glanced back up with a wide smile, "it certainly wouldn't be your face that I'd picture. If nothing else, Santana tends to follow you in one way or another wherever you go, and while I can concede the fact that she's not altogether unpleasant to spend time with outside of glee club, that still doesn't mean I would want her anywhere near my sheets."

Nose wrinkling as Puck wiped his greasy hands on his jeans— such a typical boy— Kurt turned right around to tinker with the jukebox, trying to find a way to turn the thing off. Maroon 5 was great for many things; as background for a conversation, however, not so much.

"But, alright, awake and not hallucinating." Turning around, he leaned lightly against the machine. "Care to provide an explanation?"

For a brief moment, the look that flickered across Puck's face was one of worry. A seventeen year old guy that called it making love? What the hell, how was that even possible?

Literally trying to shake away the confusion that had gummed up the workings in his brain, Puck put that into the category of Not My Problem and decided to move on.

"If you can find somebody that can give you an explanation that isn't completely retard, that'd be awesome. 'Cause I've been here like, four months and all I can get anybody to tell me is that it's an island that nobody can leave."

"Very Bermuda Triangle meets Hotel California; I'm almost impressed," Kurt replied with a raise of his brow, confused though he still was. While he had no doubt that Puck probably wasn't the best person to ask about the particulars, the fact still remained that he was in an unfamiliar room, in an unfamiliar building, and his dreams didn't seem to show any sign of relenting, even as he tried to pinch himself surreptitiously on the back of his neck. (Usually, it didn't take this long to wake. Usually, even the thought that something could be a dream was enough to shake him awake.)

Crossing his arms again, Kurt walked carefully along the perimeter of the room, as though expecting someone to jump out at them any moment now.

"Well, Puckerman, I don't see anyone else in the room right now, so a half-baked explanation will have to suffice," he added, brows knit as he turned to face the other boy again. "I'm fairly confident in my abilities to fill in the blanks anyway where the glee club is concerned."

"Look, dude, you don't believe me? Come on," he said, crossing the room so that he could catch Kurt by the sleeve of that stupid Dalton uniform and try and drag him toward the door.

"You can fill in whatever blanks you want, but this has nothing to do with glee."

"Whoa whoa, hey, easy on the uniform," Kurt protested, quickly tugging his sleeve out of Puck's grasp and smoothing over the fabric— although he had to admit, he was more concerned with Puck's tone than the state of the uniform itself, something about it speaking of a readiness to bang his head into a wall multiple times if necessary to make his point. There were benefits, at times, to engaging with football players on such a regular basis. They tended to be much more concise and to the point than practically any other student group that Kurt knew, even within McKinley. "It's a little hard to fill in blanks, Puck, when you've basically made no attempt to fill me in on what's happening. For instance, what island are we on exactly, if we're indeed on an island at all?"

"Screw the frickin' uniform. You're not gonna need it anymore," Puck said, sighing heavily with exasperation, even though he knew he was doing a crap job of explaining. But how the hell was he supposed to explain something he didn't understand.

"Look, it's an island called Tabula Rasa, off the coast of Nowhere, in the Who the Hell Gives a Crap Ocean. I was in the middle of looking for your damn replacement, since you left us one member short, and then all the sudden I was here, on the damn beach. It's like, time travel or frickin' magic or some shit. I don't know! But if you come with me, I'll show you something outside of this lame ass room."

Edited 2011-09-11 02:51 (UTC)

Although Kurt made a point of following Puck's lead regardless, both hands raised in surrender, his eyes narrowed in confusion. "Okay, uh... whoever abducted us here, be that in the deep recesses of my Inception'd mind or on the shores of some magical island, must have also completely hijacked your mind as well, because in case you've forgotten, you've found a replacement. It was Lauren Zizes," Kurt explained, nodding his head as though he could jog Puck's memory. "Who, according to Rachel, rescued you from a Port-a-Potty and demanded seven minutes in heaven in exchange for joining the glee club, and now all of a sudden Puck is now code for 'follows Zizes around like a puppy in love.'"

Coming to a halt in the kitchen, Kurt's hand rested by the side of his neck as he shook his head. "Maybe something got into the water," he suggested.

"Yeah, you wanna see the Port-a-Potty? It's on the beach. I was stuck in it when I got here, but Zizes didn't bust me out. Some other chick did."

And he'd kind of been following her around since then, too, but that was another story all together.

"Look, Santana was pissed as hell about Zizes when she got here, but I don't remember any of that crap. Last I remember, we'd lost one of our best guy's because Karofsky's a giant dick, and Shue left it up to me to find a replacement so we could compete. I'm not saying the other stuff didn't happen, it just... happened to somebody else."

Rolling his eyes, he added, "Like they get water contamination at a prissy school like Dalton."

"Oh, so I'm one of your best guys... now," Kurt repeated, blinking at the statement and brows furrowing in mild surprise. While Puck had certainly been much more helpful in recent weeks than he'd been in the years prior, still Kurt wasn't sure how to feel about the compliment coming without pressure, without warning, and without anything for the other guy to gain. "You know, I wasn't aware until now that apparently I'd needed some type of validation from the rest of the club. I always thought I was secure enough in my singing abilities, but you learn something new every day. Wow."

With a newly unperturbed smile, Kurt rounded towards the kitchen, opening and closing cupboards at will with a look of distaste. "Now, I'm going to find us some coffee before we continue in our discussion of alternate timelines, because admittedly, I've never been into the whole sci-fi fake science thing."

"We can have a sit down over frickin' lattes later, dude. It'll be easier if I just show you," Puck said, watching Kurt open up every cupboard but the one that actually held the coffee grounds.

"And there's no way you're stupid enough to think it didn't suck when you went and joined the enemy, so quit it with the modesty crap. That's not even your style."

Kurt was starting to give up on the notion of actually finding coffee in the kitchen. Cupboard after cupboard seemed to reveal mugs, glasses, and all the dinnerware that a person could ever need, but the actual food and drink was probably kept elsewhere, Kurt thought to himself, finally exhaling with a soft sigh and crossing his arms over his chest, staring over at Puck. While Kurt still questioned whatever motive Puck was acting upon, the behavior and mannerisms were accurate to a tee, probably more so than Kurt would have been able to imagine on his own. (He never was very good at getting inside the head of a jock.)

His smile was a touch strained.

"Okay, maybe I was pretty talented within New Directions, and I... certainly got to showcase my talent on a regular basis," he tilted his head, a nod of concession. "I guess not being able to perform a solo in months has gotten to me. Anyway, that doesn't— show me what, exactly?"

"The island, Hummel. If you don't go have a look now, it's gonna be a pretty freakin' huge shock when you finally do," Puck said, backing toward the door and motioning for Kurt to follow. "Seriously, at least step outside so you can quit thinking this is some kind of prank."

In spite of everything, Kurt hesitated. Paused, as though worried for that fraction of an instant that Puck really would have something entirely inexplicable waiting for the both of them outside. Something which would completely disprove either of Kurt's theories— that they were still in Ohio, or that this was the strangest dream he'd had in quite some time. But with that hesitation came the resolve on Kurt's end to see the truth for himself, to take whatever Puck had to show him and process it in full.

So he relented. Quietly, he nodded and sighed, crossing his arms as he followed along.

"I guess either way, a breath of fresh air couldn't hurt."

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